The doorbell rang.
Rebeca jumped, spilling cold coffee on the table. She wasn’t expecting anyone. She looked through the peephole. A man in a suit stood there, professional, serious, holding a package marked *confidential*. Her heart raced.
She opened the door.
“Rebecca Hartwell?” he asked.
— Yes.
– Please sign here.
She signed. He handed over the package and left without another word. Rebecca closed the door, locked it, and looked at the package. Heavy, with an official appearance. No return address.
She opened it slowly. Inside were documents, airline tickets, and a handwritten note.
*You don’t need to hide us anymore. Let me be there. Let them see you as I see you. You deserve to walk into that hall like you own the world. Because you do. Always, J.*
Her vision blurred. Beneath the note were legal papers. She flipped through them, her hands trembling. Financial records, bank statements, property transfers, all bearing Garrett’s name. Accounts she didn’t know existed, money hidden during the divorce, properties in his mother’s name, businesses structured to conceal income. Evidence. Clear, undeniable evidence that he lied.
And at the bottom, a note from someone named Marcos Caldeira. Garrett’s partner.
Ms. Hartwell, I should have spoken up four years ago. I was a coward. I documented everything. I’m sorry it took me so long. That’s enough to reopen your case.
Rebeca sat down on the kitchen floor.
The papers were scattered around him. Juliano had been investigating. For how long? Ever since they met, he had been building a case. Quietly. Without telling him.
The phone vibrated. A message from Diana: *Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in days. Do you want to have lunch?*
Rebeca looked at the message. At the invitation on the table. At the evidence scattered on the floor.
She replied: *Can you come now? I need you.*
Three little dots appeared immediately. *I’m coming. Fifteen minutes.*
Rebeca stood up, gathered the papers, and put them back in the package. She made fresh, strong coffee, just the way Diana liked it. Then she picked up the invitation again.
No hard feelings.
For the first time in four years, Rebecca Hartwell smiled.
It wasn’t a happy smile.
—
Diana entered like a hurricane twelve minutes later.
What happened? Are the children alright?
She stopped and saw Rebecca’s face.
What did he do now?
Rebeca handed her the invitation without a word. Diana read it once, twice. Her face went from worried to confused, then to furious.
Did he invite you to his wedding on your wedding anniversary?
— Yes.
“That… — Diana stopped herself, took a deep breath. — Right. And the note: ‘no hard feelings.’ Is he really insane?”
I think he genuinely believes that.
— Of course. Garrett Sullivan, the man who never does anything wrong.
Diana threw the invitation on the table.
Please tell me you’re not going.
— I don’t know, Di. I really don’t know.
Diana studied her sister’s face. She could always read Rebecca.
There’s something else. What is it?
Rebecca handed her the package. Diana read slowly at first, then faster. Her eyes widened with each page.
“Damn it,” she whispered. “He hid all this during the divorce?”
Apparently. And Juliano found out.
Juliano… Juliano?
“He’s not…” Rebecca hesitated. “He’s not mine…”
Rebecca.
No, it’s not. We don’t… it’s complicated.
Make it easy for me.
Rebeca served coffee to the two of them. She sat at the small kitchen table, the one that wobbled because one leg was shorter than the others.
— I met him eighteen months ago, at that coffee shop on Seventh Street. I spilled coffee on his laptop.
— You told me that part.
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